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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791800">cheers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoundedrevenge/pseuds/unfoundedrevenge'>unfoundedrevenge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Space (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Survivor Guilt, background Quinn Airgone / Gary Goodspeed, gary and sheryl awkward hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:31:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoundedrevenge/pseuds/unfoundedrevenge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dad was 33 when he died, wasn’t he?”</p>
<p>The silence was thick, after that. Sheryl saw her son’s face in the reflection of the window. He glared forward, unmoving. She swallowed.</p>
<p>“About that, yeah.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>gary's 33rd birthday sadness hours</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gary Goodspeed &amp; Sheryl Goodspeed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cheers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gary used to be pretty uncomfortable with silence. During his sentence on the Galaxy One, with only robots to keep him company, he filled the void with boisterous declarations and energetic video messages to Quinn whenever he could. From when Mooncake careened into his life and onward, though, more and more people joined their little family. It made sense that the overwhelming silence would get filled, but now Gary is faced with the opposite problem – finding time for quiet is nearly impossible.</p>
<p>Don’t get him wrong, he loves his crew – wouldn’t change them for the world – but living with 10 other people doesn’t exactly open up moments of silence. In fact, as he gets older and takes on more duties as a responsible adult and captain, he finds he needs those times more than ever to reflect and to breathe.</p>
<p>Maybe that’s why he found himself sitting on the floor of the observation deck, one knee pressed close to his chest as he watched the swirling galaxy just outside the glass, at 2:00 AM on the 12th of June.</p>
<p>Little Cato, bless the kid, organized a surprise party for him earlier that day with the others. HUE figured out a way to fashion their rations into something in the realm of cake and AVA got some 80s music going. Fox crushed him in a bear hug, Ash wrote him a kind but mildly threatening poem, and Quinn held his hand way more than normal, flashing warm smiles his way with a squeeze of the palm. </p>
<p>“You only turn 33 once,” Avocato said from beside him, both leaning against the snack table as they watched the others dance and laugh. Gary snorted from behind his cup, careful to hide the small frown as he drank.</p>
<p>It was fun and heart-warming, really, it was – and he made sure to tell them that, repeatedly thanking them for an incredible day. </p>
<p>But by the end of it his social battery was almost completely drained. At around 11:00 PM they all started to retire to their rooms, Ash and Little Cato looking particularly tuckered out, as they were the youngest. Giving them all one last ‘thank you’, Gary and Quinn entered their cabin, flopping unceremoniously beside each other on the bed once the light switch was flipped.</p>
<p>“I had fun today,” Quinn croaked. She ran her thumb under his eye as she cupped his cheek. “Did you?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” he smiled, placing his hand over hers. “You all sure know how to throw a party.” Quinn smiled back. She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his lips.</p>
<p>“Just wanted to make sure,” she replied. She took her hand away and pulled the covers over them. </p>
<p>“Night, Gary.”<br/>“Night, Quinn.”</p>
<p>Over 2 hours later, though, and he still couldn’t sleep. Frankly, he knew why—why he kept tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling, studying the laundry basket in the corner. </p>
<p>He had hoped that by then he would have stopped thinking about it. </p>
<p>As quietly as he could, he eased himself out of the bed, looking back periodically to make sure his partner was still asleep. It was a good thing the floors of the Crimson Light weren’t particularly creaky. He slowly backed up until he came to the door, clicking the open button and sliding out. The walk to the observation deck was a quiet one. Red emergency lights lit the otherwise dark path.</p>
<p>He sat down in front of the large wall window, bringing a knee to his chest and draping his metal arm over it. The ethereal stars of Final Space blinked from just behind the glass. Miasma in shades of purple and red swirled. </p>
<p>He supposed he was lucky that they happened to have docked tonight in a part of Final Space with only  minimal corpses floating around – he only counted 4 in the last 10 minutes. He scoffed gently at the realization that this was his new normal. He never expected “minimal corpses” to be his standard for luck, but there he was.</p>
<p>The current one looked heavily charred, half of the jacket and shirt burned away, revealing bright red burns. An eyeball hung from its socket. </p>
<p>“Quite the view.”</p>
<p>Gary jumped and whipped his head around to see who it was. He breathed out.</p>
<p>“Sheryl.”</p>
<p>Calling her by her first name started as an accident while he was introducing her to Avocato, but was quickly adopted as routine when Gary found it rolled off his tongue with an ease that ‘Mom’ did not. Something about it felt like a new beginning for the two of them. A fresh start, or something.</p>
<p>She stood there in her usual combat attire, tired eyes meeting his.</p>
<p>“What are you doing up this late?” he asked quietly. </p>
<p>“I should be asking you the same thing,” she quipped, crouching to sit beside him. “Especially after that big party the kid threw for you. Could hear it from the other end of the ship.”</p>
<p>He let out a small exhale from his nose, turning to look back out the window.</p>
<p>“You could have come, you know.”</p>
<p>“Ah, well,” she began as she stretched a leg out in front of her. “Never been one for parties. Not really my scene.”</p>
<p>Before he could stop himself, Gary’s eyebrows furrowed. Sheryl huffed.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I, uh,” he began, hesitating. “I thought you and Dad met at a party.”</p>
<p>While it was never outright stated, it became a bit of an unspoken rule that the two of them never bring up John, at least in Gary’s mind. It was his way of trying to maintain their new, fragile relationship. </p>
<p>All of these years later and he still found himself tensing just slightly – waiting for what, he couldn’t say. He remembered the sound of the whisky bottle hitting the wall.</p>
<p>“Was a bar, actually,” she replied after a beat. Her tone was light and Gary felt the tension ease out of his body. “So less children, less dancing, more alcohol, I’d say.”</p>
<p>Despite it all, Gary found himself letting out a quiet laugh. The two lapsed into silence, watching the landscape just past the glass. If you ignored the bodies, the view was almost meditative, ever-changing.  The low hum of the complex machinery behind the walls of the Crimson Light buzzed at the edges of his awareness. </p>
<p>He heard Sheryl shift with a sloshing sound, and turned to see her holding a small metal flask out to him.</p>
<p>“Wh-,” he started, at a genuine loss for words. “Where did you even get alcohol??”</p>
<p>“The day I don’t have a flask on me is the day I’m cremated.”</p>
<p>She gestured with the flask again, another sloshing sound cutting the silence. </p>
<p>“Offer still stands.”</p>
<p>He looked at the flask again. It was beat up from what looked like years of use, parts dented in. </p>
<p>Gary grabbed it with his metal hand. He made quick work of undoing the screw top, taking a large swig. It was warm. He held it back out to the other.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he croaked. He saw Sheryl’s expression flash surprised before settling into her usual smirk.</p>
<p>“Tch, not even a wince,” Sheryl scoffed. She took it back. “That’s 75%, you know.”</p>
<p>“I drank a lot in my late teens and early 20s,” he said off-handedly, avoiding her eyes. He could see her run a hand through her grey blonde hair from the corner of his vision.</p>
<p>“You didn’t get that tolerance from John, that’s for sure.”</p>
<p>That was one way to get his attention.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” </p>
<p>“Johnny Long Johns? A light weight!” she exclaimed with a chuckle. “Man couldn’t hold his margarita, much less hard liquor.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Gary says, genuine surprise leaking into his voice. “I.. actually didn’t know that.”</p>
<p>Sheryl took a swig. In the dim light, the shadows of her face were exaggerated. She looked older. Gary supposed that he must also look aged. He certainly felt like it.</p>
<p>“Well,” she began, stopping to wipe her mouth with her wrist. “Not exactly something you discuss with your 8 year old, is it?”</p>
<p>A cluster of dead bodies passed the window, slow as molasses. They were ripped limb from limb, dark blood still floating around them in nebulous bubbles. Gary gripped the fabric of his jeans tighter in his flesh hand.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” he heard Sheryl mutter. </p>
<p>A decapitated thumb twirled lazily through the atmosphere. It knocked gently against the glass. </p>
<p>“Dad was 33 when he died, wasn’t he?”</p>
<p>The silence was thick, after that. Sheryl saw her son’s face in the reflection of the window. He glared forward, unmoving. She swallowed.</p>
<p>“About that, yeah.”</p>
<p>She silently prayed that one of their annoying crew mates would come in and sap the tension out of the air with their presence. Sheryl Goodspeed, intergalactic criminal, was not known for her ability to navigate difficult conversations or comfort others. </p>
<p>“I know you think about it, too – what things would be like if he was still alive,” he rasped out. “I don’t understand why I get to be here and he doesn’t either.”</p>
<p>She shifted slightly, leaning back on her hands. She took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Truth?”</p>
<p>He nodded minutely, expression unchanged.</p>
<p>“I reckon it doesn’t really matter what you and I understand or not,” she began. Their eyes met in the reflection of the glass. “The fact of the matter is that you’re here and he’s not – nothing you or I do can change that, no matter what any Titan says.”</p>
<p>She felt a mixture of bitterness and shame claw at her throat. She persisted anyway.</p>
<p>“And it’s obvious that there are people who love you and need you on this ship, just like you and I loved and needed John. Maybe you carry on his legacy in that way - I don’t know, I’m no poet.”</p>
<p>Gary blinked – once, twice.</p>
<p>“His legacy, huh,” he whispered, and to Sheryl’s genuine surprise he seemed to be actually considering her words. A few seconds passed before Gary pivoted from his place on the ground, turning to face Sheryl completely. His expression was less sardonic.</p>
<p>“You have a second flask on you?” he asked. </p>
<p>Sheryl's expression shifted into of mild amusement as reached around her left rib and pulled another one out from a pocket, wordlessly giving it to her son.</p>
<p>“Cheers, Sheryl,” he said, raising it toward her. She mirrored him. They smiled at each other, bone weary.</p>
<p>“Cheers.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i think gary and sheryl's dynamic going forward is really interesting, especially the way it leaves space open for conflict, unresolved feelings, and bonding over their shared connection to john. wanted to explore that and here we are. i hope we can get some of that in s3 but it appears that a lot of the conflict might stem from avo and gary's relationship instead, which im not complaining about at all. super excited for the premiere this month, hope you are too.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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